


Kruber's Night In.

by JustACapybara



Category: Vermintide 2, Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer: Vermintide
Genre: also a poor attempt at explaining multiclassing, and zealot vic because ehhh he's like a bad day from going absolutely insane, but uh yeah this is just some "backstory" for Grail Kruber, didn't touch slayer bardin tho, man I am not good with tags, slayer bardin feels like the sad ultimatum i don't want to reckon :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustACapybara/pseuds/JustACapybara
Summary: Turns out the wait between Olesya's orders and Lohner's lecturing is pretty dull. But shillings still were exchanged with fair frequency, and between having to drill Lohner's recruits in how to patrol the mountains around the Fortress, and having to deal with the occasional group of Skaven slaves that crept up a bit too close to Taal's Horn for comfort, at least they had something to do. Today, however, things were drier than usual.Kruber decides to rile up morale... or at least, try to.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Kruber's Night In.

The tankard hit the counter with the force only a drunk mercenary with little hopes of the world could muster. 

"Come on, pour another, Lohner. Nothing some ale can't fix."

"Fix? Got something broken, friend?"

"Eh, maybe, maybe." He stared at the steady trickle of ale, tapping his fingers on the counter as if that'd make it go down any faster. For someone who was barely managing to keep himself up the night before, this fine end of the evening had him riled up like nothing else.

"Seems to me like nothing's broken at all. Go on, what's on your head?" The ale barely lasted a minute inside the tankard, since as soon as it made contact with the Mercenary's hand, it was already poured down his gob.

"Well..." He made a dramatic pause, looking inside his cup, before turning his gaze to Lohner. Leaning on the counter, tilting the chair just enough that it was balanced only on two of its legs. "... nothin' like a little morale boost! And we've had enough giving you coin for that."

"Wha, are you lot gonna string me from Kerillian's tree and beat me until I cough it all up?"

"Not today. Wee more dangerous than that, too." He slammed the tankard on the counter again, slammed his palms on his thighs, and got up. "Welp. Wish me luck."

"Good luck hanging me from a tree, I guess."

Kruber chuckled as he clasped his hands together, walking in a rather brisk pace to Victor's quarters. Kerillian, Bardin, Sienna... they were good - well, good enough - friends. He could literally just waltz into their rooms, and tent, and strike up a conversation. Saltzpyre being his boss... made things a little more complicated. Better get to him while his head was still relatively clear, but his belly still very much full of alcohol.

Pity that Saltzpyre picked such a broody spot to make his quarters, however. Fitting for a bloody Hunter, aye, and that made it terrifying. Too silent, and the noises that occasionally crept up the stairs made Kruber avoid the main floor of the Keep while Victor was... doing whatever it is that he did down there.

Going downstairs, Kruber took a few seconds to compose himself when finally faced with that wooden door and the soft rustling of steps behind it. He took his hat off, fumbled with the feather, considered taking off his gloves... but, nah. He was ready. Ready as he could be before he started to get dizzy, at least.

He raised his free hand, the other one clutching his hat a little too tightly against his chest, and knocked.

He only needed to do it once, before Saltzpyre's commanding voice answered, almost as if expecting him. Probably was, considering all those hunter instincts. "Come in, Kruber."

"Ah, hi there, Sir." Kruber opened the door slowly, chuckling and trying to ignore the conflicting feelings of anxiety and relief. Eyes slowly drifting from the comfort of his weathered hat to his boss. "I have to say-- SHALLYA'S MERCY, SIR!"

It was the first time he had actually gone inside the room, and while he was aware it was the Fort's dungeon, he didn't expect to see a Skaven stretched almost until it was ripped in half, just laid in a table in the middle of the room. By the short, frantic movement of its chest, it was still alive, just too weak or immobile to do anything about his current situation. The whole room looked like the horror stories he heard about Inquisitor torture chambers tenfold, and while 'the Empire' and 'skulls' went hand in hand like water and wetness, by Sigmar there were a LOT of skulls around the place.

"Yes, Kruber?"

"I, uh, I..." Kruber breathed in deep to try and clear his thoughts. A mistake, as the smell of the 'musk of fear' made him crinkle his nose and turn his head away involuntarily. It sure was easier to ignore when you were bathed head to toe in gore. But, he wasn't gonna let that stop him from trying to do something nice, especially to someone as sad and in need of human contact as Saltzpyre. "Well, Sir, to be honest, I was wondering if you'd like to do something, uhm, barring that." He waved his hat to the rat, giving an awkward smile. "Feel like we get enough action as is on the battlefield."

"Like what, Kruber?" Saltzpyre put something down, the metallic clink ringing through the chamber while he walked around the table, hands clasped tightly. "Ale? Cards? A 'praying session'?"

"Gotta say, sir, didn't think this far."

"No, you did not, Kruber."

"Yeah."

They stood in front of each other, Kruber staring at the floor out of respect (and to try and vent out the awkwardness), while Victor stared deep as if each pore and hair in the weathered warrior's face reflected some new gleam of knowledge. There was almost a vestige of softness that managed to surface, but alas, he did not become a Witch Hunter Captain by letting such subtle details escape him. He snapped away, hands now behind his back, turning to the bound Ratman. "Tell me, if you will, Kruber. Why are you here?"

"Wha, in the Fortress? I mean, Olesya has yet--"

"Fighting, Kruber. Fighting with us. I imagine the pay is not quite worth the elevation from fighting trained soldiers to the vermin that our great Empire so dearly detests and hides."

"Well, what am I to do? Just, sit in a pretty little tent in another company and wait for someone to pay us to move our arse? At least I'm doing good with you and the lot."

"... yes, Kruber. There is a reason Ubersreik fell, there is a reason Helmgart was next. I fear there is a reason our work will not be done with the fall of the Skittergate."

"You know something Olesya doesn't?" Kruber said, almost mockingly, before catching himself and recomposing in a sterner way. Victor didn't even bother throwing a stern glance at him.

"That is not what I meant, Kruber." His voice was soft, softer than usual, but no matter what it still carried the pompous and imposing tone of a Hunter. "People are complacent. As much as a prize it is a sharp aim or a sharper tongue, there is nothing as viciously searched for as willpower and the urge to act. How many would consider themselves lucky to be able to stay in this Keep, guarding it from small horrors that brush against it like the breeze against Imperial walls... or 'bodyguarding' Olesya." He gave Kruber a stern look, making the Mercenary almost completely turn his head away from the Inquisitor. "No, despite there only being coin at stake for the likes of you... here you stand, as ever stalwart. Courageous. Mayhaps a bit too prideful, but not all can reach the power and will of Sigmar."

"That a compliment to me, or an insult to the masses, Sir? Because, I mean, most went down fighting. Ain't their fault, sir."

"Both. Both... and a matter of reflection for me, perhaps."

"Well, I wasn't the only one that worked for coin and pride, though, did I? I mean, where do you keep that sawed-off rifle of-"

"Kruber?"

"Oh, uh, yeah?"

"Refrain from mentioning my hobbies away from the Order ever again."

"Oh. Uh. Very well, Sir. Sorry."

"Good. Now. What did you really want to do, Kruber? A game of cards?"

"... being honest, Sir, not sure what I want anymore. That whole bit of yours got my nogging in a twist."

"You have been dulling your senses with that poison Lohner serves again, haven't you?" Victor gritted his teeth and spoke, mostly to himself. "Wouldn't know a good barrel of ale if I threw it at him..."

"S'not like he has anything better. Or a lot of places to get it from..."

"Desperate times, dear and faithful Kruber... desperate times indeed."

"Yep." Kruber nodded his head slowly, both hands now holding the hat, almost pitying the rat in their presence - not for the fact it was being slowly torn in two, but that it had to listen to them talk before it died. He might've been a good sergeant... but not a very good conversationalist. Oh well. Wouldn't stop him from making a fool of himself.

"Very well. If you wish, you are dismissed. I'd hate to have you stay more than you wanted to." Saltzpyre turned to face his captive, a sick smile creeping just out of sight from Kruber.

"Well-"

"Unless you wish to stay?" He added, glancing over his shoulder, the malevolent smirk turning into a more friendly one just by looking at his most faithful companion.

"Uh... sorry sir, think I'll have to deny you this one." Kruber put his hat on and tipped it. "My excuses, Sir."

"Granted." Kruber turned around to leave, and just as he was about to make it through the door, he heard Victor's voice.

"Sargent?"

"... yes, Sir?"

"When one's faith is waning... what is the correct procedure?"

"Uh... A good clobber on the head to get back to their senses?"

Kruber didn't dare to turn around, the sound of a tool being sharpened being enough warning that it was the correct choice... but he did hear Saltzpyre laugh. "I have truly trained you well, haven't I, Kruber? Dismissed. Close the door on your way out."

"Had all the intention to do so..." Markus muttered as he closed the door, and apparently it was the signal Victor was waiting for to start hacking at the rat, if the wet, all too familiar sounds of frenzied butchering and enthralled yelling were anything to go by. Well, at least he had eaten some pumpkin bread earlier, otherwise, the dissonance between the safety of the Keep and the sounds of gore would've made him puke... the extra ale might've been making things far worse than they were, however. Oh well, too much thinking.

'Willpower'... hah. As if Kruber had any. He was just on the right place at the worst of times. Luck, nothing more. Just a soldier doing what he was told to do, like always. Orders. Fighting because... well, it was the right thing to do- but that was never the sole intent, was it? He needed coin for his own purposes. Because... well, because he wanted coin. And he used said coin to forget that. What a selfish, vicious cycle.

Talking about ale, Kruber had started to feel a buzz overcoming him, which probably meant it was about time to speak to the resident Wood Elf... and hopefully forget the details of gore and his own half-baked musings. Probably spend far too much time listening about hopeless dreams instead. At least it made her happy, instead of waxing lyrical about the Empire and the nature of its people. Bloody Witch Hunters...

And there she was, on top of her tree, standing on a branch like it was but the solid ground he treaded, taking aim at the dummies. He could count the arrows loosened in one hand, her quiver full, and yet all she did was switch positions. An inch of wood back, a looser grip, a barely perceptible amount of air exhaled. Kruber could just stand there and watch her all day, while the dusk painted her green robes in its waning flame. And for a few minutes, he did. Every little movement, every breath, every light flinch. He basked it all in. There was something about elves he found truly fascinating... or maybe it was just Kerillian. He did get more and more intimate with her by the day, even if she got a little odd when she drank.

"Staring again, Sergeant?" Her mocking voice annoyed Markus almost as much as her sudden words surprised him, making him nearly fall onto the ground from the wooden lamp post he was resting against.

"Well, sorry if I can appreciate good skill, wu... elf."

"Were you about to call me 'wutelgi'?" He couldn't hear it, but he felt her sighing from all the way back on the ground. She let go of the arrow and turned to face him, effortlessly scoring a hit where the eyes of a black fur would be.

"I uh..."

"Again?"

"I mean, we three have been spending a lot of time. You kinda end up picking those things up..."

"We do, but if you ever catch me calling you 'ass undie', feel free to tap me on the back of the head with your sword."

"You gonna tap me on the back of the head with an arrow now, will ya?"

"No, but that's because I don't wish to give Lohner the trouble. The Hold-Seeker gives him enough already." She rolled her eyes, slithering between the branches all the way to the ground, falling and sitting comfortably beside her campfire. Kruber nodded and walked up the small slope to sit alongside her, crossing his legs and resting his arms on top. 

"Aye. Fair enough. Taal, I'm just- sorry, Kerillian."

"For what? Appreciating peak elven performance?"

"Oh, you know. The last few days."

"Every day feels like 'the last few days' in this age, Kruber."

"Every day feels like 'the last few days' if you're in a constant state of drunkness for the past ten or so years."

"Hah! I guess having a lumberfoot liver does wonder for the soul..."

"Guess I'll remember that next time you drop out of the drinking contest... again."

"It's not my fault Lohner's drinks are poison with a sprinkle of beer on top."

"Nay, it's not, but if I recall from that Bugman's cask..."

"Ah, yes, Dwarven brew. I've had better drinks in Bögenhafen's sewers."

"Not what you were saying that night."

"I said a lot of things that night, Sergeant. We all did." She wiggled her eyebrows, making the Mercenary chuckle.

"Ah, well, maybe we did. I mean, the offer is still up in the air."

"You don't rem... say. Well. I'll think long and hard about it." She looked away, thanking Lileath for the cowl that hid her smile.

"I'm sure you will, hard to pick between saying 'no, Lumberfoot' and 'no, Mayfly', eh? What's with the mayfly thing, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, the similarities are uncanny. Foolish, bumbling, idiotic, fleeting, annoying... ah, but I think I am being too harsh."

"Oh, do you now?"

"Aye. They don't smell as bad as you lot."

"And you wonder why I call you bloody cruel..."

"I wonder a lot of things. Just as I wonder where have you been? Seriously, the smell of sweat and oil is... nigh unbearable, but today you smell like.. ugh, piss."

"Oh. Do I now? Huh."

"Go take a bath, Kruber."

"Ah, might just be the armor."

"Then wash the damn thing... ugh. No wonder your cities are such crude vileness sprawling where they shouldn't. Must make the Skaven feel right at home."

"Aye... well. What can you do."

"Though, I must admit, at least some things you mayflies make are... interesting."

"How so? Finally taking a liking to our 'crude weaponry'?"

"Ugh, no. Say... you remember Pavarron, don't you? You mentioned being there, once."

"Hah, yeah, busy carrying sacks of loot and smacking the occasional idiot that tried to get too handsy with a maiden. Even if we barely found any of those. Mostly starved peasants... makes Sylvania look like a trip to Altdorf by comparison."

"Aye, and here I thought the Skaven treated their people badly. But, at least they weaved pretty clothes. And their wine was... bearable."

"Oh, come on now, I prefer ale but don't lie. Then again, I'm a bit more lenient to the Estalian stuff, myself."

"Well, it's not quite the same quality as our orchards but... it's the best drink I had in any elfless settlement."

"There we go, some honesty, finally. Taal's blessings, it's like wrangling a bull..."

"You'd be one to know." She snorted, before breaking down into giggling.

"Wha- are you still convinced I was raised by cows?!"

"Convinced? No, Kruber, certain!"

"Like talking to a bloody child, I tell ya..." He sighed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ah... moooooo. Heheheheh. Ah, but, but that's beside the point. What did you come here to do?"

"Well, I was trying to do something nice for us folk, but it seems you're in such high spirits already I don't have anything else to do!" He said, getting up and dusting his backside.

"And what would that something be? A game of cards, again?"

"What's with you and Saltzpyre talking about cards? Not with Lohner playing... or dealing."

"Ah. You visited Saltzpyre, then." Her mood had dropped almost instantly. "Explains the smell..."

"Does it?!"

"Well, I thought he pissed on your figuratively, I wouldn't be surprised if it took a literal turn while I wasn't looking. Why do you even stick around with him?"

"I am here because of him so... so are you, technically. I mean, yeah, he's a Witch Hunter, but we can't all be perfect, now, can we? I'd know."

"No, we can't. You manlings and your cults are... ugh."

"What, oh come on, he isn't the worst person we've come across. Remember the grey mage? And every northlander we've faced since getting captured?"

"When you put it that way... yes, he truly is vile, isn't he?"

"Oh come on now. Why do you hate him so... besides all the reasons, to hate him, I guess."

"I have my reasons, Sargeant."

"Yeah, and I'm... like a bloody bull, I tell ya! Fine, keep hating him, I guess, and not telling me. I'll... I dunno, I guess I'll go freshen up my mind."

"Try not to spend too much on the ale."

"I'm going for a walk! I already spent my share on ale today..."

"Of course you did. Have fun, Sargeant. Don't trip while you're pissing..."

"That's an oddly specific thing to say."

"Wonder why." She said, smiling with her eyes. "Have fun, mayfly."

"Just make sure I don't break my 'hammer' if I fall..." He grumbled to himself, waving her off and walking away. 

First Victor, and now her. Something just nagged him. Victor's unhealthy, downright false praise, and her overly cruel teasing and poking. They were just doing their best, being who they were, he knew that. He was certain. It didn't make it any easier to bear, that's the problem. Didn't make him feel any better about himself, either.

Where was Bardin, anyway? S'not like he ever needed cheering up, but after the visit to Victor and Kerillian's teasing, he needed something to clear the awful taste they left in his mouth.

The sound of the forge bellowing while night fell was all the clue he needed as to where the resident Dwarf was, and all the invitation he needed to come to bother Bardin.

Sure enough, there he was, hard at the bellows, a surprisingly good recreation of a rapier handle, the blade nowhere in sight, however. Markus had barely grasped the concept of linking chain to make collars and other simplistic jewelry, he wasn't even gonna attempt to pretend to know what he was looking at. A piece of steel, a hammer, a dwarf with a half-empty tankard of ale looking over it.

"Dwarf? Be you busy?"

"Oh, Azumgi! No, no, I was just doing something Victor asked me for. Apparently he still doesn't take to crafting, eh, so what can you do. At least you try, eh, Kruber?"

"Ah, well, you know him, trying to commandeer and... do stuff. Bloody witch hunters. Worse than Estalians."

"Hohoho, don't let Zarrin hear you say that!"

"... Zarrin is..."

"Sienna! Someone hasn't been paying attention."

"Because I don't want to get riddled with more holes than cheese by trying to translate dwarven lingo while a ratling's upon us!"

"Aye, well, try to pay more attention AND not get riddled with holes. I can do it!"

"I guess it's a lot easier to pay attention when the shots are flying over your head..."

"Oh, that's cold, Azumgi!" Bardin slapped his belly as he let out a jolly laugh, before leaning into the forge. "But go on, now. What's botherin' ya? Oh, I tell you, you humans need to step up your faces... you all used to be better at this. Need to hunt some boars again? Or if we're lucky, we might even run into a rakkogri!"

"Sure we were." He scoffed to himself, before waving Bardin away. "No, I don't think I'm going off hunting again in a while. Right now... well, why I came here is... well I... I'm just a wee tired, that's all. Needed to talk with a good friend."

"You sure smell tired. Olesya put you in bodyguard duty again?"

"No... did- what?"

"You smell like a 'raki mistook your hat for a bathroom, Azumgi!"

"S'that what... agh, whatever, just- long story."

"I'm sure. Must be awkward explaining how ya just let it happen, eh?"

"Yeah yeah alright Bardin, I just... can..." Kruber ran his hand through his face, slowly dragging it all the way to his chin. "I think I need to cool on the teasing for a second."

"Oh. Go on, Kruber?"

"I just... no. No, it's nothing, I think I'm just getting soft. And far too sober for my own good."

"Ah, swing by my place in the morning and we'll knock a couple o' cold ones, drengbarazi! If that's what takes to make your head feel clearer then that's what it takes!"

"I... yeah. I'll consider it. I should, uh, I should probably get going. You got maps to look at, a hold to find, a... thing, to forge. Think I'll go bother Sienna."

"Oh, tell her I said hello!"

"You should go do that yourself."

"Aye, but it's a wee too drafty for that!"

"Well, there's something I didn't need to hear."

"No, ya didn't, but ya didn't need to be snarky, either."

"Yeah I- I know, I just... yeah. Sorry. I'll go talk to Zarrin."

"Ohoho, yes, you go now!"

"Yeah, thanks, Bardin." Kruber breathed in deep, patted the dwarf on the back, and left for her quarters, trying to ignore the silent gaze he could feel on his back every time he walked through the center of the Keep. 'Least he kept his mouth shut, and Catrina wasn't being an absolute nightmare on his nogging.

A few rows of steps later, and there he was, in the charred door that marked Sienna's personal domain. Three knocks on the door, standard as could be.

. . .

Nothing.

Another three knocks.

Just as he was about to give up and try to resist the urge to just walk off the bloody cliff they lived in, Sienna opened the door. Her staff was red-hot, a streak of blood ran down her nose, though despite all that, she had a rather satisfied smile. "Oh. Guess someone didn't get the memo, now, did they? Or is it something important?"

"... the memo, wha?"

"Sometimes a girl just needs to attune herself to Aqysh, dear Kruber, and not be interrupted." She gave him a pat on the side of the arm, before nodding inside. "Oh well, I can always just ask Olesya about that little project of hers and have some 'attuning' burning magic northmen."

"... Sure sounds like fun. B-but no, it's something stupid. Gah. How much of a fool can one man make of himself in a day..."

"Kruber, shut up and get in. It's drafty with the door on." She smiled, very conveniently ignoring the two massive, gaping holes on the structure caused by her 'slip'.

Knowing he had already said more than he should've and yet nothing at all, he figuratively threw his hands to the air, and literally crossed his arms, walking inside while shaking his head.

"Well... I'm just... I'm just tired, Sienna."

"Go to bed?"

"Not that kind of tired, Sienna."

"Go drink, then. There's always something you can do."

"Is there?"

"Right choices... wrong choices... all and all, you always end up doing something. We all do. Even if that choice is taking some time off. Go talk to Olesya if you need a day or seven."

"It's- It's not... like that. I'm just- I feel... wrong, you know?"

"How come?"

"I mean..." He looked around, but anything even remotely able to be considered a seat was currently on fire, and he was already having a hard time handling the heat surrounding him as sweat dribbled off his face. At least the giant, gaping holes on the structure allowed him to breathe relatively easy, rather than engulfing nothing but ash and bitter smoke. "I mean I don't know what to do, Sienna."

"Ok. How come?" She asked again, leaning her head forward and waving her free hand, clearly confused. "I'm not really a great guru or any sort of guidance giver... buuuut if you came to me, I guess we might as well try to make something out of it."

"Gah. Not enough drink in this world to make me make sense." He tried his luck resting against a searing wooden beam, but once it started to give way and sink into the ash that made up the floor for Sienna's room, he decided to just hang out near the door. At least it was windy enough that it offered some sort of protection.

"Well, then let's hear your madness. Ought to be something we can dig out of it."

"I just..." He took off his hat, fanning himself with it. "I don't think the world needs a Sargeant right now, you know?"

"Hey." Sienna's light-hearted mood almost instantly turned into a stern, somewhat motherly voice. "Don't start with that talk. We do need you, Kruber." 

"No, no, no, not like that. Well, not today at least. I just... Shallya's mercy, I just feel like a bumbling moron. An elf on a whatever mission I don't understand, a bloody witch hunter and his estalian prisoner! And Bardin. Hell, even the drunken dwarf has more going for him than I do, bloody... ranger and an ex-ironbreaker... I... gah."

"What? You feel out of place?" Sienna chuckled, but tried to keep a level of respect between them, even as she eased herself back into her usual demeanor. "Look. Kruber. Not everyone has to be special. I mean... yeah, I know Saltzpyre sometimes puts on that stupid helmet of his and acts like he's some vengeful bounty hunter, and Bardin sometimes gets his 'dongliz' in a twist and tries to match my flames... but sometimes you just have to be yourself. Though... I mean, didn't someone get to visit Karl Franz and even, oh, I don't know, get officially knighted? The 'bull of Ost--' "

"Yeah yeah I get it... I get it. Power went to my head, I know. After Ubersreik we all did stupid things, ok?"

"Sure, 'battering ram'. I think I preferred you with that thick mustache of yours." She chuckled to herself, waving him away. "No, no, I'm joking. But... even Kerillian. With her dreams and Gods and Queens... and... well. I don't have all those scrolls for no good reason. And... sometimes... I think about... uh. Letting go." She gestured to the craters in the structure, sighing. "And sometimes I think maybe I should settle already and stop experimenting. But I don't. I need time, Kruber. Time, patience, and certainty. So don't undermine yourself for just being a Sargeant. You're a great guy. Sure stood the test of time."

"Well... well I'm pretty certain I'm doing no good putting on a silly helmet and shoving myself in between a bunch of rotting Norsemen." He chuckled. "But I... and Saltzpyre's weird faith thing. I..."

"Oh, faith is, uh, not a thing I dwell into. I trust Aqysh, and it trusts me."

"Not sure how a breeze can trust anyone, but what have you." He shrugged, before muttering a sad "Sorry." under his breath. "But... Taal. Shallya. Ulric, even bloody Sigmar! What are they doing here, now? Fighting a bigger fight I hope, if we're left to scrounge for ourselves and try not to get ran into the ground by a bunch of bloody rats! At least Saltzpyre has enough gunpowder to blow up half of Helmgart if he so wills it, what do I have? An old handgun, a couple repeaters, a few swords, me old halberd, an older still shield... I know Taal doesn't like getting involved but, now? Of all times? Really! It's infuriating."

"Well... then... stop worshipping them?"

"Sure I could bu- but then what? Yeah they're not exactly helping, lest it's Taal that bloody holds my arms still when trying to pierce a Troll's eye..." Kruber's eyes widened, and he looked away. An idea. "Well."

"Well what? Did the great King himself come and clear things up for you?"

"No, no, no, I just..." He shook his head. "Well. Hypothetically."

"Ooh, that's a big word for you." She smiled, before covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Low blow. Sorry. Go on."

"Yeah, low indeed." He sighed, before looking out of the door and onto the sky outside. "What... do you think Victor considers heresy?"

"Anything that doesn't have Sigmarite passages stapled to their eyelids, I believe."

"Hah."

"Hey, you think I'm joking, I'm not. He's getting... more obsessed by the day."

"Yeah... yeah, he is. I think I'm going to sleep. Try and clear my head..."

"Wait, no, you can't just ask about heresy and drop it on a whim. What are you thinking?"

"Remember... no, I don't know if I told you this. I think only Kerillian knows. I uh... I spent some time in Pavarron. Sacking, mostly, which probably ought to put a damp rag on this plan. But I... well. The... when I was there, I just... something called to me. When I wasn't drilling folk or robbing them blind, aye. But... sitting in my tent. Looking at the sky. Drinking their wine, and those rare few moments of peace where everyone is marching back to the camp and I'm left just barely behind... I could almost hear it. A voice."

"That's your conscience, Markus."

"Oh shut it you! I know what I sound like inside my head. And I can understand myself! Couldn't make a lick of sense of what the voice told me. And I did some reading while there and... well. Their 'Lady of the Lake' seems to do that sometimes. Come to folk. Whisper to them."

"Don't you think she could be cursing you?"

"Yeah... yeah, probably, maybe. I dunno." He chuckled, putting his hat on. "I'll just go sleep these 'heretical' ideas off. Think Victor'll throw me to the rats himself if I dwelt into it."

"Markus, if you need help, ask Olesya. Seriously. We all worry about you, okay? 'All cracking heads for the same cause', and all that."

"Aye... aye. Yeah. I guess- I guess just talking about it is good enough. Thanks, Sienna." He nodded, smiling. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Just go take a bath before you sleep. You-"

"- smell like rat piss, yeah, I get it."

"... I was gonna say you don't want to sleep all covered in soot. Rat piss? Did we get some action and I wasn't invited?"

"No, no, I... whatever. I'm going for a bath. Thanks, Sienna. And uh, Bardin said hello." Kruber walked out of the door and slammed it behind him, climbing down the ladder that led into his cozy little room. Just far away from everyone to give him peace... even if Sienna's little outbursts did occasionally throw smoldering heaps of ash and wood down at his roof.

He sat on his bed, taking off his armor piece by piece, opening his windows to let some fresh air in. Not like Ratmen or Norsemen were gonna crawl that high, not with all the Shadow magic around.

He laid down, an arm over his stomach, the other over his eyes, sighing as he made up his mind. Lady of the Lake.

A lake at the foot of the mountains... probably not infested with rats. 

"Just... to be sure." Maybe it'd even reinforce his fate. But he just needed to try.

. . .

The sun had just barely crept out of the horizon, orange hues painting the morning.

Kruber found himself on the edge of the lake. A few glances to the side to make sure he wasn't followed- even if he knew that if the Elf had come with him, he wouldn't see her anytime soon.

And...

He knelt.


End file.
